But even the plainest of people can be changed by the right bells and whistles

People change like the clouds

Constantly moving forward in a blur

Coming back to you unrecognizable

Masks come off

Masks are put on

Natural becomes misshapen

Plastic elements melt away

We are built by relics of our previous selves

Taking fractured pieces from you at all the stages your life creating one being

One moment and the pieces break evermore

Another and the glass of hope and you are made whole again

So who are we?

Are we who we are now or are we our past?

Or are we who we choose to be by our embellishments?

Or are we truly a swirling storm of all our decisions, pieces, and looks….

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this piece of poetry. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I make of the world recently and somehow this piece felt necessary. Let me know your thoughts in the comments.